Black Night
by Burning Snow
Summary: Oh Merlin, damn that air, that blessed air that was allowed past his lips and inside of him, circulating through every part of that perfect body. And DAMN that arm draped so seductively over the side of the sofa. Damn it all to the fiery pit of Hell. SLAS


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, its characters, or 12 Grimmauld Place. I do, however, own the rights to this story.

This is my first story in—how long? Over a year I think. Finally, FINALLY, I received a burst of creative energy.

Well, lots of changes have taken place. I am now the proud owner of an iMac computer, and this is my first fanfic written on it. Also, the 7th Harry Potter has been released, and I am sad because the true story is over. However, the adventures of the characters may live on in the wonderful creations called fanfiction.

So here is my story. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

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The darkness was my ally; in this moment it was the deepest color of my last name. Silently I stole down the hallway, past doors with tiny glimmers of candlelight barely visible through the cracks. I descended the old staircase with swift ease. My feet knew exactly where every groan and squeal and shudder and creak was hidden in the wooden steps, and precisely placed themselves to avoid each one. Reaching the bottom at last, I took a glance at the moth-eaten curtain behind which that foul screaming portrait resided. Not even a waver.

I allowed myself to breathe once, slowly in and out, and to half-smile at my success so far. Still, this was all too easy. Suppose I tripped on the umbrella stand and woke half the house with the ruckus. Suppose the panels of the curtain flew open, emitting screeches and curses on those residing here. Or suppose…suppose he was awake. Suppose he saw me. Suppose…

No! I shoved the thought out of my mind. Squeezing my eyes shut, I felt the small grin vanish from my face. I took one more breath—in—out—and set off once more. Using my partial animalistic senses, I cleared the huge umbrella stand in one fluid motion. My bare feet did not even make a shuffle on the cold floor. I snuck past the draperies and, finally, into the living room.

There I stopped. The window dressings were drawn tightly shut so as not to let even a sliver of moonlight into the room. Peering into the blackness with my well-trained eye, I found what I was looking for. My acute ears picked up on the soft whirl of his breathing as I watched his chest rise and fall in perfect rhythm. I grimaced to myself when I thought of how hard the sofa must be beneath him, yet he seemed quite relaxed.

Slowly—slowly—I progressed. As I drew closer, my eyes fell on his bare shoulders and traveled further along his torso until they were halted by a large blanket covering the rest of his body. My heartbeat quickened at the sight.

And just then he stirred.

I halted dead in my path, sure he could hear my palpitating heart. However, he did not awaken. He simply shook his head slightly and moved so that one of his long, naked arms draped over the side of the sofa oh so seductively…

Stop! I silently growled at myself, for I felt my groin growing warmer. I could not afford this, not now when he could wake at any moment and wonder what in Merlin's name I was doing. I focused on something else, and slowly I felt the warmth loosen and dissipate.

My eyes roved back to him, and I moved even closer. Now I could see that his lips were parted slightly, allowing air to flow in and out of his lungs.

Oh Merlin, damn that air, that blessed air that was allowed past his lips and inside of him, circulating through every part of that perfect body. Damn that blanket, covering his beautiful features. Damn that sofa, on which he slumbered so peacefully. And damn, damn, DAMN that arm draped so seductively over the side of the sofa. Damn it all to the fiery pit of Hell.

His eyes fluttered, as if he sensed my distress.

I inhaled sharply. I was caught. I was finished. I would lose him once he realized why I was there.

I attempted to back into the deepest shadows, but it was no use. His eyes fully opened and locked on me. With eyebrows furrowed, he asked, "Sirius?"

I cringed away from his glance as he sat up on the sofa, disturbing the blanket so that it revealed the rest of his torso and a bit of his plaid boxer shorts. "Evening, Remus," I groaned in reply.

The darkness was still as we each surveyed the other. His eyes were piercing, his lips pursed together in curiosity. Finally, he opened his mouth as if to speak.

Before he got a chance, I took a deep breath—in—out. I tightly shut my eyes to shield myself from his reaction. And I plunged.

I dove swiftly into my entire story, every last detail, with my eyelids bolted together. I told him how I felt every day in our seven years at Hogwarts…how I had watched him in our first year and grew madly devoted to him in our sixth; how I almost told him once in our seventh year when we were lazing about in the dormitories after a Hogsmeade visit and suddenly Lily and James burst into the room with their lips locked and limbs tangled; how I almost told him again the night Lily and James had died, right before I went after Peter, but Hagrid had barged in asking for my flying motorcycle; how I lived in Azkaban for thirteen long years in torment because I believe I would never see him again or get the chance to tell him how I felt; how I adored the smell of his hair after a fresh spring rain and the gleam of his eyes in the starlight and the way he spoke and moved and even breathed; how I loved him, and always had, and always will.

I finished what I was sure sounded like insane ranting and stood, head bowed, fists clenched, eyes shut tight against his wrath.

Suddenly, I felt something sweep along from the back of my neck, pausing for a moment on my throat and settling itself firmly against my jaw. My head was thrust upwards, and a second something wrapped itself around the back of my skull.

Both curious and still fearful, I cracked my eyes open and found myself mere centimeters away from Remus Lupin.

My heart pounded with elation and dread as I focused on his unreadable expression. His eyes were wild, but I couldn't tell why. His jaw was firmly set, yet his lips were parted in an odd way. His hands tensely gripped my face.

Without warning, I was swung to the floor. I landed on the carpet with a quiet thud, and he agilely pounced, pinning me there with my wrists against the floor above my head and his palms planted atop them.

I gawked up at him, mouth hanging open with shock.

This is the opportunity he seized. Before I knew what was happening, his mouth was to mine and his tongue was vastly exploring its new space, claiming it for its own. After a moment it was withdrawn, only to be replaced by ferocious lips kissing mine in an animalistic way. And there was his tongue again, raping the inside of my mouth in a fury of passion.

Of course, I was kissing him back with as much force as I could muster, but clearly he was dominating. He straddled my torso, and I could feel him getting hard beneath his boxers. His hands slipped from my wrists and began to rip open my pajama top. His teeth bit my neck in all the right places, his tongue glided along the crevices of my ear, and his lips sensuously sucked my earlobes. By the time he moved to my nipples, my erection was already leaking.

After paying my nipples so much attention they were raw, he kissed and nipped his way down my chest and stomach. Brushing his rough fingers along the waistband of my pants for a startling effect that made me jump, he worked his way back up to my face. He gave me one final kiss on the lips and pulled away to survey what he had done to me.

I was panting with desire. I looked longingly up at him as his eyes wandered from the love bites on my neck to my raw, red nipples and then to the large lump beneath my pants. His eyes finally met mine, and he gave a smug yet disbelieving smirk. "I've been wanting to do that for over twenty years," he admitted. "Never thought I'd get the chance, even if we did end up getting together…seeing as you're usually the domineering one." He casually slid his hand down my stomach and slipped a cool finger under the waistband of my pants. I groaned deeply; he was so close to touching it, yet his mischievous smirk told me he wouldn't. "Hush, there are children upstairs," he murmured in a slightly amused tone, and withdrew his hand.

I let out a weak chuckle. "Well uh…now that you've…uh…had your go…may I…?"

"Finish things up?" Remus asked softly, his eyes glinting. "You read my mind."

Pulling myself together, I gave him a wicked grin. In one swift movement he was the one lying on the floor and I was perched atop him. "There is one thing I have to do first," I said. Painfully ignoring my pulsing erection, I lowered my face to his.

I kissed him slowly, gently, with as much love as was in my heart to be shared. When I pulled away, I whispered, "We'll count that as our first kiss, shall we?"

Remus smiled and nodded. Then he craned his neck upward, and I allowed him to meet my lips again. I took a deep breath. This time, I breathed in the entirety of his essence, and exhaled all of myself into him. I shut my eyes tightly to experience the glory of this moment. And I dove into the elation and passion of our first night together, entering him, and making every part of that perfect man my own.


End file.
